The Phantom Pain
by The Fighting Irishman
Summary: As he leaves his old life behind, he finds that releasing himself from his job is easy. Purging himself of his inner demons…that is much harder.


A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

"You seem rather uncomfortable, darling."

He turned to look at her, keeping a vice grip on the railing.

"Uncomfortable? Me? Of course not. I've just…never been good with ships. And water. And being on ships in water and…" He trailed off, and leaned over the side of the vessel again. She ignored the rather undignified retching sound, and practically stomped towards the captain of the vessel.

"Could you please instruct your navigator to handle this ship better? You are making the Inquisitor sick!" She hissed. The captain stared blankly at her.

"Last I heard there was no Inquisitor. Or Inquisition. Not no more, anyway. Which makes him just another passenger which means he don't got the pay grade to jostle me 'round, ma'am." He added the title at the end of his sentence rather smugly. His expression faltered, however, when he realized just whom he was talking to. Josephine Montilyet stared at him with an icy fury.

"What is your name, captain?"

"G-Gerard Orlain, ma'am." He muttered weakly.

"Of House Orlain? My goodness, what a shame it would be if your father found out that you were insulting House Montilyet by insulting the Inquisitor. And further still the fact that you are insulting House Trevelyan by belittling one of their own. Tell me, how does a lifetime of shoveling pig dung sound, _Gerard_?" The man practically wilted before her, and she would be lying if she said a small part of her didn't enjoy it. She was tired and frustrated and worried and the last thing she needed was this man causing her dear any more suffering.

"Leave him alone, Josie. The poor guy's been scared enough." She heard the voice of her beloved as he came up the stairs behind her, so that the three of them were now all on the stern of the merchant vessel. It had been converted as a private transport, and it was only due to the massive amount of coinage that the lady Montilyet offered that captain Orlain had agreed to abandon a few days he could have spent running regular goods in order to deliver two people back to Antiva. Both the captain and Josephine watched as he winced, and braced himself against the railing of the stairs with his hand.

He hadn't been the same for a long time now. Where once he was robust and mighty in his movement, these days he seemed frail and uncertain. He was also rather pale-looking.

"Milord, are you alright?" The captain asked.

"Just get me a chair and something stiff to drink." Ser Trevelyan said. "I'll be fine." The captain nodded, and shouted at one of his mates to get the required supplies.

"Matthias, you look terrible, love." Josephine whispered in his ear. The former Inquisitor chuckled.

"Please. This is no worse than that one night I stood outside your door in Skyhold, drunk off my ass and singing every love ballad I could think of."

"I don't think I would go so far as calling it 'singing,' dear." Josephine said, a smirk slowly playing on her lips. "Caterwauling, perhaps."

"Critiquing my voice? Josie, that cuts deeper than anything that anyone has ever done to me in the past." He managed to smirk. But there was a pain in his eyes, and Josephine just sighed and pulled him into an embrace so that he did not falter while the captain set up the chair. She prayed to Andraste that the journey would be uneventful.

A few days later, they arrived at the harbor. She was grateful that, aside from that moment of weakness, Matthias had not succumbed to further bouts of seasickness. However, he had been noticeably slow to move. It was like watching an aged hound move about the confines of a house, long after its days of prancing through the woods and fields. He was young, but he was old all the same.

The captain thanked them profusely for their kindness to him (and refused the extra pay that Josephine offered him), and ordered his men to get every last crate that the two of them had brought off of the ship and Maker _help you_ if one of the boxes gets wrecked you sea dogs. He had instinctually gone to help, only to feel her hand on his shoulder. The look in her eyes was clear: _No. You don't need to do any more._

At that moment, he heard a squeal of delight. He turned around and was only barely able to register that she had left his side and was running down the length of the dock. There was a group of Antivans waiting for her, one of them bearing a striking resemblance to Josephine though definitely younger. He smiled: she might have worn a mask the last time they'd met, but there was no denying the sight of Yvette Montilyet, Josephine's good-hearted (if slightly flaky) younger sister. She let out a similar squeak of excitement, and within moments the two sisters were wrapped up in an embrace.

"Josephine, it is so lovely to see you again!" The younger sister said, her face a mask of child-like excitement. "How was your journey? Were you taken care of? Did you bring your husband with you?"

"He's _not_ my-" Josephine trailed off, her face a mask of crimson. Still some ways away from them, Matthias stifled a laugh. The sight of her so flustered brought him back to the memory of when he'd first gotten it through her head that he was interested in her as more than just his trusted ambassador.

 _Perhaps I should have composed a ballad, then. Or sent roses._

Varric had said he'd have given a couple of fingers to come up with that line and the way the Inquisitor had delivered it.

"Oh, there he is!" Yvette said, waving towards Matthias. "Inquisitor! Come over and introduce yourself to our family! Our brothers and mother and father and-" As he got closer, her expression faltered to one of horror. "By the _Divine! What happened to your arm?_ "

"Yvette…" Josephine said in a warning tone. She made eye contact with Matthias, and it seemed like he was shrinking before her very eyes. It did not help that, though Matthias was rather tall for his age, her brothers and her father were all positively tree-sized. Before she could say anything else, there was a deep voice that spoke.

"Yvette, it is not polite to call attention to such things." The baritone voice of Yves Montilyet rumbled. Almost immediately, Yvette hung her head with shame.

"Yes…father. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize to me." Yves said, his tone stern yet fair. "I do believe it is the Inquisitor that you should direct your words to."

Maker, he was a massive man. It looked like he was about the size and stoutness of Iron Bull, if perhaps a few inches shorter. Or maybe it was just that Bull's horns made him even taller. Yves' beard was thick and long, going down to his upper chest, and it was streaked with traces of grey. The three younger men, whom Matthias assumed were Josephine's brothers, were all quite large themselves but even they paled in comparison to the patriarch of the family. Clearing his throat, and trying not to think about how he now knew what it felt like to be Varric, he spoke up.

"It's quite alright, Serah." He said. He then shrugged. "And you don't have to call me Inquisitor anymore. The Inquisition…well, it doesn't exist anymore."

Yves responded by bowing his head as if in reverence, and the rest of the Montilyets bowed with him. When they straightened up, the old man looked at him and spoke with conviction.

"And I don't believe I'm supposed to bow to the Herald of Andraste anymore with the election of the new Divine…but I choose to, anyway." He smiled, a twinkle in his eyes, and Matthias felt better already. Josephine finally got an opportunity to hug her father, and the giant of a man laughed and easily lifted her up into the air, swinging her around in the embrace as if she was a small child. One of the brothers clapped Matthias on the shoulder.

"Let me help you get your gear." Unlike the other men of Montilyet, he was clean shaven…though there was definite signs of stubble. "Least I can do for the man who stole lil' sis's heart."

"I don't think he _asked_ you for your help, Laurien." The brother who looked the youngest, and the closest in appearance to Yves, said. His beard, however, was little more than a mustache and hopeful whiskers. He struck Matthias as an Antivan version of Dorian, and for a moment Matthias wondered how his friend was doing back in the Magisterium. "I think the Inquisitor can handle himself."

"Marcel, did I ask for your opinion?"

"No, but you invited it."

"Shut up."

"No, _you_ shut up."

"Both of you, stop it." The tallest of the Montilyet brothers, and the one that looked the most like Yves, said. "Here, I've got an idea: all _three_ of us grab his gear, that way we don't have to worry about making another trip. Time is money, y'know."

"Listen to your brother Antoine, boys." Yves said, a hint of an amused grin forming behind his bearded gaze.

As the three younger Antivans walked down the dock to grab the few boxes of luggage that comprised Matthias' belongings, Yves turned towards the pair of horse-drawn carriages that were waiting for them.

"I assumed that it might be foolish for us all to fit in one of those things, and considering it was a beautiful day out, I thought it'd be a crime not to have an open view." Yves said. He turned to Matthias. "Usually these carraiges cost a little bit extra, but thanks to you…my family can afford it again."

"It was nothing, really." Matthias said.

"Codswallop." Yves said, drawing a giggle from Josephine and Yvette at the sound of his favored dismissal word. "You had to deal with the House of Repose, Inquisitor. That's no walk in the park. In fact…you dealt with them so well that…" He trailed off, and Josephine and Matthias got their first look at the men who were at the reins of the carriages. Or, rather, as best a look as they could get, seeing as how the men were wearing very distinctive masks.

"Are those men of the House of Repose?" Josephine asked, horror in her voice.

"Yes, but we mean you no harm, madam." Everyone except Yves jumped at the sound of the spindly-looking fellow who had entered the conversation. "My superiors decided that if House Montilyet can not only dissolve an ages-old contract with minimal fuss, but also allow us to weed out some of our more…incompetent agents while they did it, then perhaps House Montilyet is worth working with in the future." The man was wearing a mask to conceal his face. "We approached your father about the possibility of serving House Montilyet as a sort of…liaison-"

"But I swiftly assured them that there would be no use of assassins or other such skullduggery in my family's name." Yves said with a stern expression. He then turned to Josephine. "But then when they heard you were arriving, they decided to wait and present a counter-offer."

"No one who bests us should simply walk away, madam Montilyet." The agent of Repose said. "It is both foolish and insulting to both Houses. Therefore, when we became aware of the fact that the Montilyets might be the targets of piracy as they restart their trading empire…we realized that perhaps there was still a need for us, after all."

"Are you saying that you wish to enter into a partnership?" Josephine asked, her manner already slipping into diplomat mode. Matthias noted the proud look on Yves' face. The agent of Repose chuckled airily.

"Nothing nearly so parasitical, madam. We would like to serve as protection and armed forces for the fleets of House Montilyet. The superiors of my House have been discussing the idea of…shall we say…'going legitimate'. And, contrary to what some would say, mercenary work and privateering are legitimate enterprises." He said. "Of course, your father let me know that you are the one that makes the deals around here."

Josephine tapped her chin in thought.

"You…propose an alliance between Houses?"

"Yes."

"And there is no catch whatsoever?"

"None, madam. If you do not believe me, you will believe the head of House Repose when he comes to House Montilyet in two weeks' time to discuss the inner workings of the contract…if you should choose to accept our offer. Otherwise, he will gladly re-schedule for your convenience.

"This seems too good to be true." Josephine muttered. The agent of Repose shrugged.

"We're not in the business of losing money or lives when we needn't. Continuing a grudge against House Montilyet would cause both. Alliance is the best and only course of option in our head's mind. He…She…They…the head of House Repose is pragmatic if nothing else."

"And I will see this person face-to-face if I accept."

"They will be alone with a single guard. You may have all you wish for defense. This is to assure you of our sincerity."

Josephine thought long and hard.

"Tell your head…tell the leader of the House of Repose that I look forward to meeting them."

"A wise decision, Lady Montilyet." The agent of Repose bowed graciously. "With that I take my leave. Our agents will escort you to your home now. I do hope to meet you again some day, madam." He exchanged a look with Matthias, Yves, and Yvette, and with that took his leave.

Matthias walked up to Josephine, and cleared his throat softly.

"That was…well, I was about to say impressive, but I guess I should expect nothing less from the woman that brokered so many deals for my organization in the past." Matthias said with a chuckle. Josephine looked slightly guilty.

"…Sorry, darling. I didn't mean to leave you out of the loop there. It was just…instinct?" She shrugged, not sure what to call it.

"Instinct that makes you more than capable of taking over as the head of the house." Yves said. "Come along now. No need to keep aunt Ygritte waiting when she's preparing dinner."

After a few minutes debating who was sitting where (Josephine's siblings all wanted to sit in the same carriage as the Inquisitor. Yves had to intervene.), the duo of carriages started their journey through the lazily sloping hills of the Antivan coast towards House Montilyet. In the first carriage, Matthias was sitting with Josephine, Yves, and Antoine. Josephine's mother (Esperanza) was sitting in the other carriage, mostly to keep Marcel and Laurien from bickering and/or picking on Yvette. From the sound of things, so far she was doing an excellent job.

"I am quite glad that you were able to make it here, Matthias." Yves said, his arms folded across his chest. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and there was a noticeable breeze in the air. This was probably the closest Yves was ever going to get to admitting that he was a little cold. "Josephine's letters mentioned you with…increasing frequency after a certain point."

"Even during the whole thing with House Otranto." Antoine said. He scratched his chin, and chuckled at the somewhat guilty expression on the Inquisitor's face.

"…Right. Sorry about that?" Matthias offered. "I mean, I know it was something that was arranged and everything so I guess I have to admit that I sort of…well, threw a wrench in that whole thing, didn't I?"

"Don't be sorry, that Adorno was a prick." Antoine said, ignoring the somewhat stern glare his father gave him. "I doubt I would have liked having to deal with him."

"My son's wording may be a bit…colorful. But I must confess I never truly liked Jedediah, the head of that house. Having to act as though he was my brother-in-law…well, I suppose I dodged an arrow there, myself." Yves admitted.

"See, why can't I get away with saying things like that, father?" Antoine asked, somewhat poutily.

"Because I'm your _father._ "

"…Fair enough." Antoine folded his arms across his chest and grumbled something.

"What do you do, Antoine?" Matthias asked, hoping to break the man out of his shell.

"Up until a few months ago, I was a captain without a ship, a seafarer shackled to the sands!" He said, with a rising sense of drama in his voice that led Josephine to roll her eyes. He chuckled. "I'm the fleet captain of House Montilyet's trade convoys. Father used to do that, and I was raised to be the one to take his place. I'm more at home on a boat than on the shore."

"And now, thanks to you, dear, Antoine no longer has to sit in our house and go stir-crazy." Josephine said with a smile. Matthias nodded.

"Anything to get an old seadog out on the water again, right?" He said, making a motion like he was doffing a cap with his good hand. Antoine laughed.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ old! I doubt I'm older than you, _boyo!_ "

Josephine glared, and Antoine looked meek.

"Erm, sorry 'bout that, Matthias. That last one was kinda mean."

"No taking advantage of Matthias because he cannot speak Antivan, Antoine." Yves said.

Matthias smiled thinly, and tried to ignore the sensation of his fingertips that were not there.

…

They arrived at House Montilyet some time later, as the sun was starting to set and turn the land an assortment of orange and red shades. The Men of Repose gently guided the carts to the front of the estate, and then helped the three Montilyet brothers unload the luggage from Josephine and Matthias' journey. Yvette, Yves, and Esperanza accompanied Matthias and Josephine to the front door of their mansion.

It was not the size of Skyhold, but it was definitely a house to be proud of. It looked as though it had recently been cleaned, as though years of disrepair and clutter and dust had been cleaned away. Even the hardwood floors seemed to shine. Yves placed his large fur-laden cloak on a coat rack by the front door, and turned to his wife.

"Do you think that Ygritte finished, dear?"

" _Finished?_ Yves, you mangy mongrel you zink I cannot handle myself without you?"

Matthias barely had time to react before a short and pudgy-looking elf stomped her way down the stairs, dressed in what looked like a head chef's robes. Her face was wrinkled and she was frowning quite heavily, but there was no denying the twinkle in her eyes. This must be Ygritte.

"By the Creators, how do you stand with zis oaf, Esperanza my dear?" She asked, drawing a chuckle out of the elder Lady Montilyet. "He possesses ze care of a darkspawn in ze light!"

"That metaphor doesn't make sense, auntie Ygritte!" Antoine said cheerily, helping himself to some of the spread that the other servants in the house were setting at the table.

"And neither does suggesting I cannot cook without supervision!" Ygritte wailed, though there was no hiding her smile this time. "Nothing but a bunch of-oh, hello dear? Master Yves, who is zis?"

"This is Matthias Trevelyan, the man courting my daughter Josephine." Yves said. "He will be staying with us for some time, I do believe."

Ygritte looked beside herself with giddiness.

"Oh, courting miss Josie? Oh, how lovely! I remember when she was just a babe, playing with her dolls-"

" _Ygritte…_ " Josephine said, a look of panic dawning on her face. It did not reach the aging elf.

"-And now she is a grown woman. Oh, by the Dread Wolf, where does ze time go?"

It was as if the temperature in the room plummeted. Matthias' face went expressionless, and his body as rigid as steel. He no longer seemed to be looking at any of them, a faraway look in his eyes instead, and his shoulders slumped. He seemed to have aged decades in a manner of minutes. Without a word, he brushed past all of them and started walking up the stairs towards the room Yves has mentioned he would be staying at for the duration of his time there, and shut the door. Everything went quiet, with all eyes staring in confusion at his departure. Yves turned to Josephine.

"Was it something we said?" He asked. Josephine sighed.

"It…is a long story, father."

…

He was thankful for the fact that his room came with a balcony, because staring out into the vast expanse of the Antivan coastline and the endless sea in front of him was vaguely therapeutic. Listening to the waves in the past had always helped him purge his mind of his worries and fears and sorrows.

But now, all he could see was that apologetic look, all he could hear was that voice on the verge of breaking while describing what was needed.

All he could think about was the last time he had called Solas his friend.

…

He stayed out there for some time, not noticing the fact that the sun was setting. Finally, he was jostled from his trance-like state by the sound of the door opening. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, Josie. I didn't mean to-"

He was cut off by the feeling of a very large hand on his shoulder, startling him. It was not Josephine that was now with him but rather Yves. And far from angry at the way Matthias had no doubt spoiled the plans for dinner, there was a concerned look on the aging Antivan's face.

"Are you alright, son?" He asked. Matthias shivered. There was something about the way that the man had said that, and something about the words he had chosen, that seemed to cut deep into his core. He sighed.

"I'm sorry for ruining your plans tonight, Messere." Matthias said.

"Please. Ygritte is more concerned with your health than she is with her food. _We're_ more concerned about you than a silly meal. And Josie is worried sick about you." He reached into one of the pockets tucked deep into his coat, and removed a rather dignified-looking pipe. He lit it up, and within a few moments the acrid, sweet smell of something was burning in the air. It smelled a little bit like incense, and not at all like regular tobacco. They stood there in silence for a few moments, and then Yves found his voice.

"I imagine it has something to do with that?" He asked, gesturing to the stump that used to be Matthias' left arm. The Inquisitor sighed. It felt like it was just yesterday. The apologetic conversation, the way Bull and Dorian held him down while Vivienne anesthetized his arm, the fact that only Cassandra had the bravery to wield the axe…

"It does, messere."

"I figured as much." Yves said. "You might not believe this, my boy, but Josie writes a lot of letters back home. And while it was quite constant during the two years that you were dealing with at Corypheus thing, she outdid herself and wrote enough to fill a year's worth between the meeting where you dissolved the Inquisition and your arrival today. So you do not need to hide anything from me." He looked at Matthias poignantly. "I know about your friend Solas."

"But was he?" Matthias asked quietly. "Was he really my friend? I…I remember the first major conversations I'd had with him. Others shunned him or were afraid of him, and yet for whatever reason I never had a problem approaching him. Questioning him. Talking to him. Maker, I even teased him when Thom asked him about fade spirits!" He chuckled a little bit. "Whenever I led one of my parties out on expedition, he was my right-hand man. He and I didn't agree on everything…but he and I always respected each other immensely. When he told me that he respected me far greater than anyone he had ever come to know…I treated it like a great compliment, and nothing more. But now…now I know the meaning of the words."

"He saved you, then?" Yves asked.

"In a manner of speaking." Matthias said bitterly. "He could have just taken the mark. He could have just removed my arm then, and not let the rest of my friends develop nightmares about the process of saving me. Because he didn't just hurt _me._ Iron Bull didn't say a word the entire time until we returned to the castle, only grunting and listening to every command that Vivienne gave to keep me alive. Vivienne…well, any concerns I had about her kindness were redeemed. She was like the mother I never had in that moment, just cooing in my ear to keep breathing, to keep focused on the Winter Palace where I would have to return. But I could see the horror and sorrow in her eyes, even as I slipped in and out of consciousness. Cassandra swung the axe to remove my limb, and then threw up in the grass immediately afterwards, and had to be physically carried out of there by Commander Cullen, hysterical and at the verge of inelegant tears. For a woman of her faith, to have to defile the Herald of Andraste…it must have felt like pure sacrilege. A direct desecration of the Maker's Will. If she didn't have Cullen…well, I don't know where she'd be right now. Dead, maybe, of a broken and ashamed heart."

"He could have _explained_ things, instead of hiding behind his half-truths and almost-facts." Yves saw the man's shoulders starting to tense up. "He lied, in the end. I almost believed him, you know. When he said that he would treasure the chance to be proven wrong once again. I almost believed him when he called me friend. And I almost believed him when he said that he wished Josie and I a lifetime of happiness." He turned to look at Yves, and the older Antivan saw that there was a tear starting to roll down the younger man's cheek. "The _gall_ of him. To offer congratulations to me for finding the one person who I am truly happy with in my lifetime, while he plots to end the world. How can he justify such words and actions? Does it even matter? Does he even realize what he's doing?" He hissed. "He was my friend, Yves. My _friend._ And _**I hate him.**_ " He took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked completely miserable. "…..Why did it have to be like this?"

Instinctively, Yves leaned over and pulled Matthias into a fatherly bear hug, gently patting the younger man's back as Matthias sobbed in grief and anger and heartbreak. Finally, the older Antivan spoke.

"I will not even begin to pretend that I understand the pain that you have gone through, my boy. I feel doing anything otherwise would be an insult both to your intelligence and your integrity. But I will say this, because this is what I have always told my children: It will be alright, my son. It will be alright. You have family here. And you are not alone. I promise." He looked over to the side. "And it seems that _we_ are not alone." He had a sad smile on his face, and broke his embrace with Matthias. Matthias, confused, turned to look in the direction that Yves had been looking, only to nearly be tackled off the balcony by a crying Josephine.

"Oh, _darling._ " She said, holding him tight. One of her hands stroked the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair as she whispered in his ear. "I am here, my love. It will be alright. It will be alright."

Wisely, Yves took his leave and walked out of the room and back down into the great hall. He made a face when he saw the rest of the Montilyet family leaning against the door, as if they had been eavesdropping the entire time.

"Maker, are you adults or schoolgirls?" He grunted. Sheepishly, his wife and children all straightened themselves out.

"Father…is he…?" Yvette asked hesitantly. Yves sighed.

"He will be alright." Yves said. "He has a heart larger than Thedas, but a great sorrow weighs it down." He looked determined. "He is not one to be coddled, but I can tell you that I have seen with my own eyes the love he has for Josephine and what good she does for him, and I promise you this: I will _not_ abandon him to his demons."

"And neither will I." Esperanza said. "I've never seen Josephine happier than when I saw her with him, and the way she wrote of him…If he could be there for us during our time of peril, then I could never abandon him."

"Me neither!" Laurien, Marcel and Yvette all said.

"I like this guy." Antoine said. "I don't want to see him get hurt or be hurt."

Yves smiled.

"All of you make me so proud." He said. "Give the two of them time. And then we will welcome Matthias Trevelyan to Antiva in a way that he will always remember."

"Ooh, can we take him to the opera?" Yvette asked. "I imagine he'd _love_ that!"

…

They stood there out on the balcony, feeling and thinking of nothing but each other. They swayed together, she whispering in his ear things that warmed his heart and slowly but surely eased the anger and rage that had threatened to consume him not moments before. He knew she would be the one first to say otherwise, say that he was putting her on a pedestal that she did not belong on, but he felt redeemed just by being with her. No longer was he consumed with vengeance, and he remembered his final exchange with the Dread Wolf.

 _You don't need to destroy this world. I'll_ _ **prove**_ _it to you._

… _I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend._

Perhaps there was still a chance that things could go back to the way they were.

But in his heart, no, in his soul he knew the truth: the phantom pain would never cease.


End file.
